


Slack

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Collars, Leashes, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 15:39:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13662039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Ignis corners Noctis into behaving.





	Slack

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for anon’s “Noct wearing a collar and leash” prompt on [the FFXV kinkmeme](https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/4747.html?thread=8933771#cmt8933771).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Even when there’s nothing going on, Noctis’ apartment is still infinitely better than Prompto’s empty ‘home.’ He still comes over, still lounges on the couch, just flips idly through comic books while Noctis is over in the dining area, thoroughly buried in his studies. At least, Prompto’s _trying_ to be idle, lax and casual, and Noctis is probably _trying_ to be completely engrossed in his work. Really, Prompto’s squirming, and Noctis looks like a bristling cat with a rod-straight tail.

The only person not on edge is Ignis, who toils away at the stove, his back to them both. He seems perfectly at ease with the situation. Prompto pretends he is and keeps his eyes glued on his page, even though he’s all about the peripherals. In them, he can see Noctis fidgeting. Noctis lifts one hand to scratch at his throat, deft fingers curling around the thick leather wrapped around it. In his other hand, a pencil taps at an open book. Noctis _glares_ down at the text while he tugs at his collar, but, of course, it doesn’t loosen its hold.

The sleek black collar rests snugly against his pale skin, tucked beneath the open collar of his shirt and striking in its contrast. It’s bolted together at the back of his neck—Prompto was there to witness that peculiar ritual, where it was first snapped on—and the front bears a simple metal ring. A short leash is clasped there, and the drooping handle pools minutely on the tabletop before Noctis’ trim chest, trailing off to the side, where it’s locked to an iron enclosure Ignis had specially installed. In effect, Noctis is chained to that table, to his studies, and Ignis, the only one with the combination to the leash’s lock, won’t let him go until they’re done.

For a long time, Noctis strokes it, making it incredibly difficult for Prompto to tune the scene out. Then, finally, Noctis seems to tire of pawing at his confines, and he drops his chin into his hands. He sighs loudly, “I’m _bored_.”

“Really?” Ignis answers, voice mild and back still turned. “And here I’d thought last night’s council meeting was rather fascinating. Perhaps it was more so in person. But, given that you skipped it, I’m afraid the official report will have to do.”

Noctis groans, and Prompto bites his tongue just short of counseling Noctis to cut that out—at this rate, goading Ignis will just result in Noctis being dragged to the next meeting via his leash, and Prompto can’t think of anything more embarrassing.

Or more engrossing. Prompto lifts his book to cover his blush. Bad enough that Noctis is hot as hell under normal circumstances. Geared up in low-key bondage, he’s pretty much irresistible. Even after a good hour or two of the delectable view, Prompto can’t decide if it’s more super cute or ridiculously sexy.

It shouldn’t be either, and he pointedly ignores Noctis’ gaze, even when he can feel it boring into him over the top of his comic. Noctis even hisses, as though there’s any way Ignis wouldn’t hear, “Prom, _help me_.”

Prompto nervously laughs, “Sorry, bud,” and feels pretty bad. He even gives Noctis a pitying shrug. He totally would rescue his prince if he thought he could. But that might result in them _both_ being collared. Prompto wouldn’t put it past Ignis to call in Gladio for backup, this time with a harness and cuffs.

Prompto shivers just thinking about it. Noctis drops his pencil.

He rises carefully out of his seat, clearly trying to make as little noise as possible, and slowly slinks around the table. The leash uncurls. He comes around the other side and reaches for the coffee-table, where his confiscated phone is innocently sitting, and the leash pulls taut.

Noctis grits his teeth and tries to stretch as much as he can, but really, he’s not even close. Prompto guiltily averts his gaze when Noctis looks at him. 

It still pushes him to gulp, “Iggy, this is, uh... kinda cruel...”

“The world will be far crueler to a king who doesn’t know his kingdom,” Ignis easily quips, “And you, Prompto, aren’t obligated to witness either issue.” 

True. Prompto should probably leave—better than staying put and ogling his best friend in distress—but he just _can’t_. Noctis finally gives up and slinks bitterly back to his chair. It’s only a few minutes before he grumbles, “I need to go to the washroom.” Clearly, he’s saying it to Ignis, but his eyes burn into Prompto.

Prompto dutifully straightens up, just in case Noctis uses this chance to make his escape, and the two of them can somehow bolt away. Logic would dictate that the leash, at least, would have to come off for such an occasion, and they can always cover the collar up with the right jacket once they’re free.

Ignis simply pauses his ministrations, washes his hands in the sink, wipes them off on a dish clothe and wanders out of the kitchenette. He unclips the end of Noctis’ leash but then wraps it tight around his hand. Noctis looks at him for a minute, then sighs in defeat.

Ignis walks Noctis to the washroom, the leash swinging conspicuously between them, and Prompto sinks back into the couch.


End file.
